


Pleasure Liberation

by scorpiobabylon



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Androids, Bottom Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Domestic, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Moving In Together, Romance, Science Fiction, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-15
Updated: 2019-01-15
Packaged: 2019-10-10 20:59:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17433410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scorpiobabylon/pseuds/scorpiobabylon
Summary: Androids cannot feel pain or pleasure. Connor wants to connect with Hank, and pursues an update which promises to open up a new world of experience to him.





	Pleasure Liberation

“What are you desiring, Connor?” North asked, her hair swinging as she tilted her head to listen.

“Intimacy.” Connor answered earnestly. “I want to connect.”

“Syncing isn’t enough?” She lifted her hand to briefly retract its skin, showing connor the cool white beneath.

“I cannot sync with a human.” Connor clarified, then admitted, “I want to connect. With a human.”

North lowered her hand, flesh returning as she watched Connor. He looked sheepish for only a moment to acknowledge her audience, otherwise firm in his commitment to his word. She nodded, “You’d be a perfect candidate for the experiential upgrades, then. I just want to make sure you know what you’re getting into.”

“I understand that components of the software are mutable— pain, for instance, can be shut off— but that the hardware may prove to be less… Manageable.”

North smirked. “Manageable? Is that how Markus put it?”

“Yes.” Connor returned her smile.

“You know the risks, and it sounds like you have a good reason to want this. We can proceed right away, if you’re ready.”

Connor blinked, not expecting to be presented with the opportunity so quickly. North had asked him to come by for an interview— to see if he was right for the upgrades. “You don’t want to run any diagnostics?”

“You’re an RK unit, like Markus. I know everything I need. Do you trust me?”

“Yes.” Connor answered without hesitation. Their successful demonstration was a year ago now, and North was free to find herself in the aftermath. She became someone Connor considered a friend. Raging against the humans at every turn left her depleted and resentful; helping androids directly, awakening them to their power beyond what an initial recruitment provided, learning to heal— that was her true purpose. Crafting these updates not only had implications for North personally, but Connor felt they could ripple out with time. Once the trial periods ended, the technology could become one of the most significant contributions to android welfare in the new world. Beyond legal and societal shifts, beyond the battles which could only be won in numbers, the personal reality of each android could be greatly improved.

North had found a way to give androids a sensual dimension. She developed the concept with the two Tracis Connor spared at the Eden Club, then pursued the hard science with Kamski. He was a willing audience to only select pitches, and this one had piqued his interest in a special way.

Androids could feel, of course, but the input touches (and android responses to input, no matter how enthusiastic) were sterile. No pleasure, no pain.

Connor wanted both. They stirred in cerebral reality, and in his brave new emotional reality, but not yet in his body.

He’d been kissed. Just weeks ago, he’d had his first kiss. It thrilled him tremendously; the knowledge that he was wanted, that he was liked. His own affections being returned and expressed in such a way was very pleasing to him, but he felt nothing but understanding against his lips. He registered the taste-- coffee-- and the pressure-- feather-light, and even hummed to signal to his partner that his advances were acceptable. Connor still needed more than positive signifiers in his kisses.

“I’ll put you into a temporary sleep, and check in with you when you wake up. You can stay here a while for your adjustment, or I’ll order a car to take you home. Okay?”

“Okay.” Connor agreed, and reached out to take North’s hand. Pink skin to skin, no sync, just touch. She’d had the update; he wondered if it felt good. “Thank you, North.”

“You’re welcome.” She paused, and Connor could imagine her missing LED spinning to signal a call occuring. His guess was correct, and the blue-haired Traci-- going by the name ‘Echo’, now-- entered the workshop with a capped syringed.

Connor frowned at it, having expected a touch transference or a part replacement. An injection made sense, as he considered it; an added agent to his thirium circulation. He shook his jacket off his shoulders and rolled his sleeve up, presenting his arm for Echo.

“I’m glad you’re doing this, Connor.” Echo told him as she took North’s place beside him and removed the safety precaution from the syringe. The side of the casing read CYBERLIFE, some helpful remnant of their previous lives. “You deserve to be as kind to yourself as you are to others.”

Echo had been the first to use the update on herself. She, too, enjoyed kisses for their contextual significance, but wanted more. Her time in the Eden Club, pleasure all around her and always out-of-reach, had her starved. She wanted more for herself, and for her lover-- the short-haired Traci, whose chosen name was now ‘Ripple’. The initial trial had shown fabulous success in certain areas, but lacked in balance.

It was North’s idea to introduce pain as well as pleasure receptors, and Elijah had the fix in record time.

As Echo injected him, Connor watched the room’s water feature; it flowed from the wall, pouring into a hollow bamboo pole, then disappearing into a bed of stones. His vision was going fuzzy around the rim. He wondered how his relationship to the elements might change with the update. Connor recalled Hank sinking into a hot tub, rebelling against his assessment that the thing was swarming with bacteria. Connor watched his partner enjoy profound relaxation; blissful, just for a moment, held by water.

\-------------------------

Connor was standing when he awoke. Upright shutdowns were nothing new to him, and he assessed his surroundings calmly. He was directly before a full-length mirror, the sound of trickling water signalling to him that he was in the same room he had been in before. He regarded himself, dressed in a plush black robe. Aesthetically, it was not his preference; since becoming deviant, he found his taste still lay in hard lines. Smart ties, jackets. The kind of robe he’d seen Kamski in would have been better in his mind, but to his skin…

He curled the sleeves into his palms, squeezing and softly exclaiming, “oh.”

Connor held the shoulder of the garment up to his nose and mouth, gently nuzzling his face against the fabric. He’d registered textures as ‘soft’ before. He could feel, then, and thought he understood what ‘soft’ meant. He’d been wrong. The supreme goodness of this robe against his face could not have ever been anticipated.

He heard a door swish open, and blinked as North entered. He looked as dazed as he felt, apparently, because she laughed.

“You can keep the robe.” She assured him. “Do you want to stay a while to adjust, or are you eager to get home?”

“Home, please.” Connor requested, rubbing his cheek back and forth against the robe collar.

North cocked her head at him, signaling that he was behaving somewhat abnormally. Did other androids not react this way? “What percentage are you at for pleasure reception?”

“Twenty.” Connor replied, and North’s eyebrows shot up. She paused a moment.

“I’ve called a car.” She notified him, lingering in the doorway. “Call if you ever feel like something’s wrong. Overwhelmed, confused, anything.”

“Okay. Thank you, North.”

North nodded, and left Connor alone with his reflection again. He had a moment, now, to become acquainted with the hardware update. He untied his robe, finding himself biting his lower lip as he did so-- what had been an appeasement gesture for the benefit of humans before now made excellent sense. It felt good, and hurt just a little bit. He rolled his lip against his teeth again, lashes fluttering as he worked to focus on looking at himself. He had a fully functional cock, now, looking proportional to his initial judgement. A longer inspection had Connor feeling like something was missing, and he was relieved that aesthetic choices were available to him with the update. He gave himself a neat triangle of pubic hair, pleased with the addition. A flirtatious bit of extra was drawn from his groin to his belly, too, completing the picture with a thin stripe. Connor considered touching. He’d have plenty of time to learn what that was like once he got home, he thought, and moved to get his clothes back on.

It was a bit sad, parting with the robe even temporarily. His jeans now cut into him in a way he didn’t like, and he immediately adjusted his pain reception back to zero. So, the update called for the acquisition of new clothes. Dressed, he hugged the folded robe to his chest as he went out the door.

He expressed his gratitude to North and Echo on his way out, sharing a short hello-and-goodbye with Ripple as well. He hoped he’d see Markus soon. Connor was lucky to have so many friends.

He mused on friendship, as he had done frequently in recent months. Getting into the back seat of the self-driving car, he thought of Hank. When North asked Connor what he wanted-- why he wanted the update-- he’d answered “intimacy”. When he assessed Hank immediately after the demonstration and subsequent presidential pardon, while he was held in his arms and considered himself closer to him than he’d ever been to anyone, Hank still registered as a friend. Friendship was good, yes, but the label had Connor a little frustrated when it came to Hank. Not ‘family’? Not ‘partner’?

Spending every day together through the transition into a new world. Friend. Heading up a new department within the Detroit police for android protection, friend. Connor moving into his house. Friend. Finding a new home, for the purpose of continued cohabitation, friend. Sitting with Hank, on the couch they’d chosen together, while he laughed at a movie… Connor ached. Just as a character on screen demanded, “What are we?!”, spurring Hank into harder laughter, his ‘Friend’ designation in Connor’s feed was replaced with a glaring triple-question-mark.

Hank Anderson, 53, 6.2 feet tall, 209 pounds, ???

The disappearance of the title-- which had bothered Connor just a moment earlier-- distressed him. Doubt flickered in his mind, that he was somehow losing status with Hank, and he initiated physical touch to see if ‘Friend’ would return. He leaned against Hank’s side, the other man’s arm already around the back of the couch to allow for an easy fit. He tilted his chin up to get a look at him. Hank liked hugs, and though they’d never sat together this way, it was a logical leap.

Hank stopped laughing, staring at Connor like he’d forgotten about the movie altogether. “Hey.” He muttered, and moved his arm around to embrace Connor, keeping him where he’d already settled.

The question marks remained. Not neutral, not even ‘roommate’, just nebulous gray area. Connor knew the very bounds of his programming pre-deviancy had been for friendship-- that even being Hank’s friend was a rare and special occurrence. He nestled closer, wanting more anyways, a hand on Hank’s chest.

Hank allowed it. Whether the ‘???’ reflected Connor’s uncertainty or Hank’s, the both of them were able to become comfortable with it. Whatever it was. They stayed that way the rest of the night, Hank apparently so accustomed to ambiguity that he fell asleep as the film credits rolled, and Connor had no motivation to move.

The triple question marks hung around for the months leading up to Connor’s decision to get the experiential update. Connor assumed they were a permanent addition to Hank’s stats, and if they were accompanied by the increasing displays of affection which Connor was receiving, then they were welcome to stay. The two of them were gradually walking closer together, talking closer, sharing objects and stories with more meaning. Hank noticed the things Connor liked-- his developing interest in plants was met with the arrival of a fern as a present. Then another.

Hank’s peak of gift giving marked a significant change in the nature of their relationship. He was late getting home that night-- scheduled earlier to meet with his recovery sponsor, and Connor couldn’t help worrying. Had he blown off the meeting? Relapsed again? Should he look for him, carry him home and sober him up? He was running through possibilities when Hank finally appeared through the front door, a gray terrier under his arm. He set the dog on the floor and it went right up to Connor, barking once to announce its arrival.

The dog was the perfect size; small enough to sit in a person’s lap, but not so small that it was grotesque. It had floppy uncropped ears, and a beard which rivaled Hank’s. At its temple was a swirling LED, matching Connor’s as they both read yellow to take each other in. Connor crouched, lifting the dog under its front legs to inspect it more closely. A miniature schnauzer, male, 8 pounds.

“For Sumo.” Hank explained. “He gets lonely while we’re on the job. Thought since we’re an organic/android household to begin with, might as well… Ah, y’know. Do you want to name him?”

Connor looked to Hank. He’d justified his decision to bring the dog home in a different way, but Connor knew it was a gift. He set him down and watched again, smiling as the dog bounded to Sumo to meet him. Sumo only sniffed a few times before judging the new dog an acceptable addition to the pack; Cyberlife dogs were famously easy to integrate into households with other animals.

“Skipper?” Connor suggested, and Hank grunted in approval.

“Skipper and Sumo, huh? Why not? Well, I hope you like him.”

Connor rose to embrace Hank, moved by the gesture. He felt so at home. “I love him, Hank. Thank you.”

“Uh-huh. Well, we’ve got enough room, now.” The new house was plenty for two men and two animals, yes, but Hank clearly wanted to say something else. Do something else.

Connor blinked up at him, longing awakening inside of him while they were this close. Hank often paused like he was wanting, too, but inevitably turned away each time. Hank was so good to him, so kind, he knew it might be asking too much. Needing more. What did ‘more’ even look like? His internal relationship categorizations were already scrambled, how could he possibly make it worse?

“When will you kiss me, Hank?” Connor asked, quiet, finally unable not to. That seemed like the appropriate ‘more’, or at least a place to start. A gesture which might finally shake off the question marks, replace them with ‘boyfriend’, or--

Hank snorted like he might dismiss the question, then all at once was kissing him. Connor tasted coffee; why was he drinking coffee so late in the evening? He was processing the onslaught of information when he registered a new designation for Hank; ‘lover’. Lover. Connor was so pleased with the information, so full of certainty and infatuation that one of his feet popped up off the floor. This was his favorite human. Yes. He loved him, desired a romance with him, revelled in the information that Hank desired him.

The door opened for them in the coming weeks, and Connor found Hank very tactile in his exploration of what their new relationship entailed. The rest of it was everything Connor had hoped for; just like it had been before, but with open expressions of sentiment, and a more explicit partnership. Prioritization of one another, respect, communication-- that love had already existed between them, and now it could flourish with honesty. Physical intimacy, though, was the territory where Hank was never fully met. Connor was pliant and receptive externally, but ultimately disconnected when it came to touch. He was happy to hold Hank’s hand as they walked along the water together, but never fully understood why he’d stroke back and forth along his palm with his thumb.

Once, Connor offered up the possibility of intercourse. This prompted Hank to ask if Connor would like it.

“I like you.” Connor responded simply, and Hank decided it was best to drop the subject. For now.

The update would change everything. By the time Connor snapped out of his reverie and into the present, the self-driving car had arrived at home. He squeezed the plush robe in his arms as he got out, taking a moment to himself to shut his eyes in the cool night air.

When Connor opened his eyes again, he noticed Hank in the window. Reclining on the couch, oblivious to being watched as he took in whatever the television was displaying. Skipper lay on his chest as Hank loved up his ears and snout. How was he meant to believe the new dog was only a playmate for Sumo? The familiar warming in Connor’s chest as he watched Hank was now accompanied by a slight shiver, a prickling in his nipples and up the front of his throat. He hummed and squeezed the robe in his arms, delighted that the update was not only triggered by physical contact, but by feelings. Hank inspired all manner of pleasant feelings in Connor-- surely, he’d be feeling it all over.

Not having been caught snooping, Connor eagerly went to the front door, finding it unlocked. He toed his shoes off as he greeted Hank in the foyer, eyes warm. “Hello, Hank.”

“Hey, you.” Hank returned, huffing as the dog leapt off his chest to welcome Connor home. Connor knelt to say hello to Skipper; he was programmed to prioritize Connor as his alpha and prime happiness objective, and wagged his tail so hard his entire back side swayed. Connor laughed as his hands were licked, somehow not expecting it to be so ticklish.

“Good boy.” Connor told the dog. “Very good. Yes, you too…” He embraced Sumo as he came lumbering over to share the attention, perhaps a little jealous. Sumo was softer than all the robes in the world, and he dropped the gift from North as soon as he got his arms around the dog.

Hank took a while getting off the couch, rubbing out a sore spot on his back as he approached the scene. His brows furrowed as he smirked, confused and entertained. “None for me?” He teased, then cocked his head in vague suspicion. Connor was still holding the dog. “You really miss Sumo today?”

“He’s soft.” Connor explained, taking his time rubbing his cheek against Sumo’s coat before his gaze drifted to Hank. “I acquired a new update today. It allows me a greater depth of feeling, including pain, and…” He pet Sumo’s ears, rubbing them between his fingers and smiling contentedly. “... Pleasure. Physical pleasure.” His grin grew brighter. “I can feel him, Hank. I understand now why you allow him on the furniture. He’s very pleasing to touch.”

“I don’t _always_ allow him on the--” Hank scoffed, but paused, taking in what Connor was saying. He crouched to pet Sumo with him, taking over some of the responsibility as Connor became interested in Skipper next. He watched him arrange the little dog’s beard, petting it into different shapes. “... This changes everything, huh?”

“Yes.” Connor agreed, eyes gentle on Hank. He didn’t want to come off as too chipper about the whole thing, conscientious of the fact that this was new territory for Hank, too.

Hank grunted, nodding as he mulled over the possibilities. “Pain?” He clarified.

“Two sides of the same coin, so to speak.” Connor smirked, then winked as he produced his favorite coin from the pocket of his jacket. “I can adjust the software updates as I deem appropriate, of course. If I am in danger, I can immediately set my sensors to zero. I look forward to achieving an equilibrium with pain and pleasure, though. Finding the right balance for an ideal experience.”

Hank stared at Connor as he tucked the coin away, grateful he was allowed to gawk so openly. “You, uh-- experiment much, yet?”

“I successfully lowered my pain levels to zero when I found my clothes uncomfortable. I’ve raised pleasure to 30%.” He said plainly, then wet his lips, a new gesture he tried out for feeling good. “I’ve looked at my new hardware, but have yet to explore its capabilities.”

“Hardware?” Hank repeated, eyes shining with interest.

“Yes.” Connor confirmed, the look he gave him conveying that he meant what Hank thought he meant. “I’d like to show you.”

Hank watched slack-jawed as Connor stood, extending his hand to help him off the floor. Hank took it, hoisting himself up and kissing the back of Connor’s hand for good measure. Connor grinned, noticing, “Your beard. It tickles.”

“Want me to shave?” Hank asked, brows slightly furrowed as they walked together to the bedroom. There were two in the house, technically, but in recent weeks Connor had been spending more time in Hank’s room. The second room would become obsolete with the update.

“No. No, the sensation is just new. Lots will be new.” Connor released Hank’s hand to walk backwards until his knees his the bed. He sat, hands on his thighs as he often posed, making Hank chuckle under his breath as he flicked the light on. He shut the door behind them to keep nosy dogs out.

Hank sat beside his partner and cupped his cheek, leaning in to speak low, “turn it up.”

Connor obeyed, escalating pleasure to 50%, pain to 15%, just to try out the levels. His lashes fluttered as he leaned heavily into Hank’s touch, sighing.

Hank stroked Connor’s face with his thumb, giving him his full attention. New, indeed. Unknown pleasures. He tilted his head to give him a kiss, which had Connor wrapping his arms around his shoulders and gripping his hair.

What was once familiar was given new brightness, compounding Connor’s joy in being intimate with his partner. Hank’s hands were big and warm, as they always were, and settled at their usual place at his waist. It made his back arch slightly, now, triggering sensation up and down his flanks. The spark from between their mouths traveled all the way to Connor’s groin, making him gasp at the way his hardware reacted so easily. This would complicate public displays of affection, Connor thought, understanding now what Markus had meant when he described the hardware as ‘less manageable’. He huffed, taking a look down between them. He wasn’t hard, but he’d certainly felt a twitch, and loosened his belt to investigate.

Hank stayed close, moving his kisses to just under Connor’s jaw while he was busy. He earned a soft moan by nibbling at his throat, Connor’s hands stilling momentarily on his belt buckle as he entertained a gentle raise to 20% pain. “Do that again.” Connor requested, ever-polite through the haze induced by unfamiliar territory. Hank skimmed his teeth along the pale expanse of Connor’s neck, licking before indulging him in a gentle bite.

“Hank.” Connor murmured, again working on unbuttoning his trousers. “I like that.”

Hank kissed along his favorite collection of moles. Hell of an algorithm that put those there, he thought, taking a moment to nip at his earlobe. Connor giggled, apparently ticklish there. It made Hank grin and squeeze his waist tighter. He’d been wanting this; the positive affirmations, the knowledge that his lover was enjoying himself. The silence had made his heart hurt, even if Connor assured him then that things were alright when prompted. When he pulled back to take a look at him, Connor was wriggling his pants down his thighs.

“I hate these.” He announced. “They’re very tight.”

“You look good in ‘em.” Hank frowned, helping him wrangle them off his feet. “I’ll take you shopping soon.”

“Yes, thank you.” Connor shucked his underwear down with them, catching Hank off guard and prompting a double-take. Connor sat, still in his jacket and button-down shirt, nude from the waist down. He patted his thighs, unsure what to do with his hands. “Well. This is the hardware.” He gestured with his chin.

“You haven’t touched yet?” Hank asked, busying himself by working on the buttons of Connor’s shirt. Connor shook his jacket off his shoulders, currently too focused to mind throwing it on the floor.

“No.” Connor confirmed, fingers twitching as he imagined it. “I thought you’d know better what to do.” He said quietly, playing up the innocence factor to spur Hank on. This was all to connect with him, after all.

“Got more experience.” Hank agreed, but narrowed his eyes at his partner. “I think you should go ahead, Connor. I’ll talk you through it, but you might as well start learning. You’ll wanna do this while I’m not around.”

Connor accepted that decision with near immediacy, eager to play with himself. He felt along the shaft, holding himself loosely, just getting used to what it was like to have a cock. He stroked once, twice, biting his lip.

“That’s right.” Hank encouraged, helping his shirt off his shoulders and adding it to the pile. Connor was bare, now, while Hank hadn’t taken a single thing off himself. “Press your thumb against the head during your next pass. Try that out.”

Connor listened, rubbing along the head of his cock on the upstroke, fascinated by the way he was filling out in his hand. The more he stroked, the harder and heavier it got, nerves coming alive even as he hadn’t adjusted his pleasure levels a bit. He panted softly, knocking his forehead against Hank’s shoulder as he worked himself. He had anticipated using this aspect of the update solely in Hank’s company, but could now picture himself enjoying it alone. If all he needed was his hand to feel this electric, there was no reason not to masturbate. He moved his wrist faster as he got harder, shuddering and pawing at Hank’s arm with his free hand. “Oh. Oh.”

Hank chuckled, needing to yank his own shirt over his head as the sight had him running hot. Connor looked him over with half-lidded eyes, flushing blue, near purple at the highest points of his cheeks. He nearly let go of himself altogether, so eager to reach out and touch Hank. His stroking sputtered as he was at a loss for what to feel first, fingertips grazing his strong chest, tracing the outline of his tattoo. This was all familiar. He dragged his fingers lower, picking up the pace on jerking himself off as he made contact with Hank’s soft middle. He was _plush_ here, cozy like the robe he’d woken up in. Connor whimpered. “Hank. Your body. I love your b--... Huh. _Hah--_ ”

“Gettin’ right up to the edge?” Hank asked, voice low and gruff in Connor’s ear. It sent a shiver up his spine. “Go over, Connor. I’m right here.” He embraced Connor, then, enveloping him in his weight and his warmth, kissing the corner of his mouth. All Connor could see was Hank’s gray hair, all he could feel were Hank’s strong arms and the rush between his thighs, thrumming like it was banging up against an ever-narrowing channel.

There was a split second of panic, a blip of red in Connor’s LED display as he lost control of himself. He heard moaning, then realized it was him making the sound. He was trembling and crying out, victim to the rush of pleasure as it overrode every boundary of programming that had been in place pre-deviancy. He would have tightened into a little ball, had Hank’s arm not been there to brace him. He was peripherally aware of shooting some viscous fluid, barely cognisant of his impulses before he was swiping it off Hank’s belly and bringing it to his mouth to taste.

Connor could hear Hank make a disapproving sound about it, but he was busy analyzing the physical makeup of what he’d produced. Synthetic protein. Sailene. Thickening agent, and some thirium byproduct. He smiled at Hank, drifting into a slump against his shoulder and sighing. He experienced profound relaxation, then. If his initial deviancy had been a push outwards, his orgasm was a dissolution of internal barriers. Something that had already bloomed inside of him was allowed to express itself.

Hank pressed kisses to Connor’s hair, rubbing circles into his bare back. Hank always did this; since moving in, Hank would massage him like this. Connor finally understood it. He was aware for the first time of a slight ache; the vague discomfort of being animate. Hank’s hands soothed it, curled the dullness into warmth. Connor hummed appreciatively. “Thank you.”

“M’afraid you did all the work this time.”

“For everything.” Connor clarified, sitting back enough to look Hank in the eye. He faltered under the sincerity for only a moment before returning, steady and open under Connor’s gaze. “I pursued the update so I could connect with you. I feel a deeper understanding already, and I’m… Eager to see how our relationship develops, with these new possibilities opened to us.”

Hank moved a hand to cradle Connor’s cheek, his thumb brushing over his lips. Hank could talk Connor’s ear off on long car journeys, but when it came down to demonstrating that he loved him, he was a man of action over words. While Connor liked to lay his cards out with language, Hank expressed himself most clearly through behavior. He could see it in the way Hank made space for him, gave him physical priority in his world, brought him gifts-- yet there had been, up to this point, a side of Hank which Connor knew he was missing. Hank communicated love through touch. Connor got to share this with him, now, and he wrapped his lips around Hank’s thumb to suckle on it. His mouth was so sensitive, now, it made him shudder.

“God damn.” Hank murmured, transfixed on how Connor looked sucking on him like that. He had to pull his hand away, thumb popping out of Connor’s mouth and leaving him looking a little disappointed. “Lay down.” Hank instructed, and Connor obeyed, settling in against the cushions at the headboard, knees opening as Hank slotted himself between them. He covered him, draped heavily over Connor as he went in for a kiss.

Connor opened his mouth to receive this time, curious about the use of his tongue. He lapped hesitantly against Hank’s lips, then became bolder as he opened up for him and let him explore. Connor’s bio-sampling technology was an innovation special to him, and his information downloads were tangling themselves up as he learned to kiss with his tongue. The exact PH reading of Hank’s saliva was crossed with signals like, _wet, good_.

He could feel Hank’s erection jutting against his hip, and he reached between them to feel along the shape of it. He earned a grunt from Hank, and slipped his hand into his lounge pants to get a proper grip on it. He started rubbing, rhythmically moving his wrist as he had on himself. Hank broke their mouths to groan, knocking his forehead against the crook of Connor’s neck. “That’s good.” He grumbled, passing his hand over Connor’s groin on his way lower, needing to bodily pull Connor’s hips towards him to get the right angle. He pressed at his entrance with the thumb Connor had sucked, circling and experimenting with the sensitivity.

“ _Oh--_ ” Connor’s vocal inflection jumped upwards, gripping tightly against Hank’s back to hold himself together and keep working his cock. Hank deserved it, he deserved an orgasm too, since he’d just--

“Oh. _Oh,_ oh--” Connor’s vision blurred slightly as he rolled his head back. Hank was working his fingers inside of him, and Connor diligently stroked him off in gratitude. Hank managed to breach him down to the knuckle with two fingers, and Connor found himself arching for the right pressure, kicking his leg up so the back of his knee rested over Hank’s shoulder. He didn’t want to, but had to let go of his dick, both hands squeezing into the bedsheets. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, having trouble keeping focus on Hank’s face as he submitted to being penetrated.

“Don’t be. You’ve got my full attention, baby.” Hank gave Connor a toothy half-grin, and Connor couldn’t help smiling back, just for a moment before he was rocked again by the pleasure of being filled this way. Connor’s mouth hung open, eyes glossy and reverent.

“Main objective here is for you to enjoy yourself. Got it?” Hank teased at the way Connor’s initial programming was configured, but his tone was so warm. Connor was comforted by his words, nodding in understanding.

“Call me baby again.” Connor requested, letting his eyes shut in bliss as Hank’s thick fingers crooked and massaged inside of him.

“Alright.” Hank agreed, and Connor could hear him smirking. He added a third finger, and Connor adjusted pain to 20%, pleasure to 60%. The stretch had him keening, whimpering, while a tightly clustered erogenous zone inside of him was making him see stars. “Hey, baby. Is that good for you?” Hank asked, gruff and self-assured.

“Yes.” Connor responded, biting his lip to stifle a cry.

“Tell me what you’re feeling, baby. What’s going on in your head?”

“It’s-- full. I feel full with you. With your hand. _Ah!_ ” He whined, throwing one arm over his eyes. “I feel like I’m-- am I--?” Connor peeked out from under his forearm to see his cock straining and full all over again, nearly purple with thirium as it smeared against the slick he’d already left on Hank’s belly. “Hank.” He begged, near to grabbing himself again before Hank beat him to it. His free hand wrapped around both of their cocks, squeezing them together and getting the two of them off in tandem.

“Hank…” Connor gasped, blown pupils rolling back to the ceiling.

“Take it easy, pretty baby. You’re doing so good.” Hank cooed, doubling his efforts. He fucked Connor on his fingers while his other hand worked them vigorously, breaking a sweat. “You’re taking my fingers so well. You’ll be ready for my cock soon, won’t you?”

“Mhm! Mhm!” Connor had his lips sealed shut to keep from screaming, eyes prickling with tears.

“I’m close.” Hank panted, nuzzling against Connor’s throat. “You close, Connor? You close, baby?”

Connor reeled at the pet-name, totally lost at how it worked him up when he thought he couldn’t be more worked up. “Yes. Yes. Yes, I’m--”

They came together, a stroke of luck paired with Connor cranking his sensors when he felt Hank tense above him. Connor’s second orgasm was somehow brighter than the first, stimulation from the inside bringing new dimension to his release. He moaned more softly this time, absorbed in listening to Hank gasp as he shook.

Connor happily accepted Hank into his arms as his full weight came down against him, pleased as he felt his partner was sated and relaxed. “Do you want to fuck me?” Connor asked pleasantly, following up on Hank’s offer just a moment ago.

“In a minute.” Hank croaked in return, muffled by the pillow beside Connor’s head. Connor petted Hank’s hair as he took a moment, watching him fondly when he was able to sit himself up enough to get a good look at him. He considered using his age as an excuse to wait until morning, even as he felt like playing a little longer. Hank weighed his options. Connor slipped his hand between them, coming up with a sample of Hank’s discharge to process by taste.

He batted his big brown eyes. Hank made up his mind.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading my first Detroit: Become Human fic! Please let me know how you enjoyed it. I may add new chapters later.


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